by Danika Stone
“Mrs. Preet,” she choked. How much did she hear?! “I—I didn’t know you were standing there.”
“Obviously,” she said with a shake of her head. “I heard you were writing your final exam today. I wanted to catch you before you went home.”
“What about?”
“I hear from Ms. Rodriguez you’re nearly done with your project. She told me you’ve worked very diligently on it.”
“Sh-she did?”
Mrs. Preet nodded. “Yes, and I was glad to hear it. Graduation is just around the corner, after all.”
Madi was surprised to discover she no longer felt excited about the prospect. In the two weeks since she visited New York, she’d grown so accustomed to exhaustion that she’d stopped thinking about it. There were too many things going on to worry. She still had no guarantee she’d be graduating. And Laurent would be back in France—gone!—in a few short weeks.
“Ms. Rodriguez also tells me she’s thinking of writing you a reference letter for a journalism scholarship.”
Madi blinked. “She is?”
“Which is why I thought I’d speak to you myself about it. So there aren’t any … impediments to that.”
“Impediments?”
“As you know, the board takes any accusations of plagiarism very seriously.”
Madi felt like she’d been doused with cold water. The sweat across her forehead grew cold. “B-but they cleared my work,” she said. “I talked to Ms. Rodriguez about it myself. She told me they’d reviewed all my previously submitted work, and as far as the group was concerned, they’d seen nothing to suggest—”
“This isn’t about the last plagiarism accusation, Miss Nakama,” Mrs. Preet interrupted. “This is a new one.”
“What?!”
“I received a very concerning e-mail regarding your alternate assignment. The video project you went to New York to work on.” She frowned. “I’m hoping you can explain it to me. I really don’t want to discover that you’ve misled me in some way. Not after you assured me you’d followed the rules to a T.”
Madi staggered back, blood roaring in her ears. It felt like she’d stumbled into a horror movie, and though she didn’t know why it was happening, the serial killer had found her once again.
“I was so pleased to hear Ms. Rodriguez praise your revised assignments,” she said gravely. “But let me make it perfectly clear: Anything plagiarized is, of course, inadmissible.”
“But I—I don’t understand. This is wrong!” Madi’s voice rose in anger. “I haven’t plagiarized anything! I’ve been working on this new project for weeks!”
“Lower your voice, Miss Nakama. I want to believe you, but I need you to explain—”
“No! No, this isn’t RIGHT!” All the panic, anger, and pain rose to the surface. Madi jabbed her finger at Mrs. Preet’s chest. “You’re doing this on purpose! You hate me!”
“I assure you my feelings for you have nothing to do with this,” she said calmly. “It’s just a matter of school rules. When the e-mail arrived yesterday, describing your behavior, I—”
“Behavior?!” Madi’s voice boomed. A number of students on their way out of the exam looked up in surprise. “I’ve done everything by the book! I redid that whole goddamned assignment! And I followed all your stupid rules! You’re a horrible person—”
“Miss Nakama! That sort of attitude is unnecessary.”
“—who doesn’t give a DAMN about her students! And telling me about this at the last second is just your way of getting even with me!”
Mrs. Preet’s face had taken on a vivid eggplant hue. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Sensing the eyes of everyone around them, Madi turned. Students watched the interaction with saucerlike eyes. A nameless girl, slouching against the brick wall nearby, fought a bout of silent laughter, hand over her mouth.
“You tell her!” a voice shouted, and an uneasy titter rippled through the gaping crowd. Robbie!
Mrs. Preet’s voice was unsettled by the heckler. “That’s enough!” she said shakily. “You come to the office right this minute, young lady. I’ll not be spoken to like that!”
“No!” And with that, Madi bolted down the street, leaving an openmouthed Mrs. Preet and a mob of laughing students behind.
“Madi!” Sarah shouted. “Wait for me! WAIT!”
Madi ran faster.
16
“Bogus. Heinous. Most nontriumphant.”
(Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, 1989)
Shoulders hunched, Madi tiptoed past the kitchen where her father sat, phone in hand.
“But I don’t understand what you’re claiming, Mrs. Preet,” he said. “How exactly is that plagiarizing? I mean, you can’t star in a video without having someone to film it, right?” There was a long pause. “I understand that the rules may use that particular wording, but that is not realistic, at least not for a project of this nature.” Another long pause. “Actually,” Charles growled, “I take the rules very seriously.…”
His eyes were pressed closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, a pose that told Madi that no matter how calm and placating her father’s words might be, he was furious. The fact he’d told Madi he’d “deal with it” gave her a modicum of relief, but the unpleasant personal knowledge of Mrs. Preet’s temperament gave her an equal balance of terror.
This situation was going to get worse before better.
“Mm-hmm … and I understand that, too,” her father said, “but it doesn’t change the fact that twice my daughter’s schoolwork has been investigated regarding plagiarism, and twice the instructor of the course has stood by her work.” His tone sharpened. “Speaking as someone who has done plenty of writing for the Tri-State Herald and who knows firsthand its guidelines, perhaps this is the correct time to bring in an outside mediator to review the situation.…”
“Oh God,” Madi groaned. She couldn’t listen to any more.
She crept into the living room, where her sister sat, flicking through channels. Sarah glanced up as Madi came in.
“Hey.”
“You busy?” Madi asked.
“Just about to start a movie.”
“Oh, right.” Madi wracked her brain, trying to remember what rewatch she’d planned for today. She’d been so busy, she could barely keep up with the schedule she’d set up. “This is Some Kind of Wonderful, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh. Do you have time to join us?” Sarah slid one cushion over so Madi could take her usual place. “I could message everyone. Let them know you’re here.”
“Don’t tell them yet.”
“Are you watching?”
“Um … not decided. Maybe for a bit.”
Madi slid her phone from her pocket to discover an active discussion already in progress.
@ModernDayWitch: @ArtWithAttitude It was my all-time FAVORITE movie when I was an angsty preteen. #WearingMyFuture
@ArtWithAttitude: @ModernDayWitch I’ve never seen it before, though I think I saw the actor in something sci-fi. Not sure. #Yummy
@WrittenInChantalics: @ModernDayWitch EEEEeeee!!! I love him, too! But he looks so YOUNG in this one. O_o #HelloGrandpa #NotMyKindOfWonderful
@ArtWithAttitude: @WrittenInChantalics LOL—Everyone starts off young, Chantal. LOL Yes, even you.;)
@laurentabelard: Hello all! Just got off work. What did I miss?
@fandometric: @laurentabelard Nothing yet. The MadLibbers are just cuing up. WOOHOO! #MadLibs
@ModernDayWitch: Ready to start this liveblog, everyone? (Anyone seen @StarveilBrian1981 around? He should be here.)
@fandometric: @ModernDayWitch Not lately.
@ArtWithAttitude: @ModernDayWitch @laurentabelard @WrittenInChantalics @fandometric Ready and waiting! Let’s liveblog! Woot!
@ModernDayWitch: @ArtWithAttitude @laurentabelard @WrittenInChantalics @fandometric Take your places. On your mark … get set … GO!!!
With a sigh, Madi flicked her phone’s screen off and shoved it in her pocket. She�
�d arranged for the guest posts. She’d handpicked the guest bloggers. But it still irked her to see it under someone else’s control. One last post. Then MadLibs is mine again. If only the video project were done, then I could—
“You all right, Madi?”
She turned to discover Sarah watching her, her young face sharpened with concern.
“I’m fine.”
Sarah tipped her head, giving her a piercing gaze. “I don’t think you are. When we start movies, you’re usually on your phone, but you just put it away and frowned.” She leaned closer. “Did something happen?”
Madi considered telling her sister the truth, that there was a flaw to Mrs. Preet’s claim—that someone knew she’d had Laurent’s help in New York. But she didn’t know how to put it into words without launching into a discussion she didn’t want to have.
She shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“Why are you lying?”
Why? Because the horrible truth was that whoever had turned her in had known she was in New York with him, and that left a very limited group of people: Sarah, her father, her aunt Lisa …
Laurent.
“Just start the stupid movie, Sarah, or I’m going back upstairs again.”
Sarah scrambled for the remote. “You don’t have to get so crabby about it.”
A swell of music leading into the brass rumble of cymbals filled the room as her sister settled back against the cushions and leaned against her. The pose was much the way they’d sat weeks and months before: rewatching movies, surrounded by a bevy of online friends who wanted to laugh and joke. She couldn’t wait to retake the reins!
The beat grew louder as a pounding drum riff joined the main theme. Madi watched through half-closed eyes, almost missing the buzz of her phone. She pulled it out to find a message from Laurent had arrived.
i know you’re working on your video and i don’t want to be a pest, but watching movies makes me miss you.
Her stomach clenched as a worrisome thought filled her mind. What if Laurent told someone he was helping me film? He told Ava about the guest-posting long before it was public. He could have told her about the vlog, too. Madi slid away from Sarah, giving herself room to type in a reply without her seeing.
i’m actually around right now. (taking a break.) glad i caught this
WOOHOO!!! that’s AWESOME! i was hoping you might join us!
awww … that’s sweet of u
i’m going to tweet to everyone that you’re here!
don’t! i can’t stay long and i don’t want everyone to think i can stay for the whole movie.
too late, minette! now you have to come chat.
Madi frowned. Her fingers tapped irritably on the side of the phone. Why does he keep doing that? After a few seconds, she wrote another reply.
what if I’d rather just talk to u?
even better! (i’ll tell the other madlibbers you just popped in to say hello
…
“Are you even watching this?” Sarah complained.
Madi slid farther away. “I’m just checking e-mail,” she lied. “You remember what’s happening. Okay?”
“Fine,” Sarah said with a long-suffering sigh.
so what have you been doing? how is school? life? family? tell me ALL THE THINGS!
er … that’ll take a bit. there’s been a LOT
i’m here. (I wish you were here, too.)
i wish i were, too
i’ve been trying very hard not to interrupt you the last few days. i know you’re close to finishing up the year. (i’m counting days.)
i took my last exam today
that’s AWESOME! congratulations!
that’s not all there is, though. i still have to finish editing the vlog and things r not good
what? but why? I thought you told me you were nearly done?
Madi sighed. How much did Laurent actually know about the accusation? She couldn’t think of how to lure the information out.
Madi typed in a reply, then deleted it all.
Seconds later, she typed it again.
i am, or i WAS, but someone complained that i’d collaborated with someone on the vlog. the school is doing ANOTHER review. my dad is ready to blow a gasket
blow a what?
he’s FURIOUS. (but not at me, thankfully.) he says mrs. preet has taken the situation out of context, whether or not i got assistance & I DIDN’T.
wait. assistance from who??? that makes no sense.
according to whoever reported me—it was assistance from u
but who’d even know we talked? or met? or did anything at all? i didn’t tell anyone.
Madi stared at the message on-screen. And there it was, that part that she just couldn’t wrap her head around. If he didn’t tell someone, who did? It had to be someone who knew she was rewriting her final project, and that left her a limited number of suspects. Madi’s gaze jumped over to her sister. Could Sarah have told someone?
Sarah’s arms were crossed on her chest, her lower lip jutting forward in irritation. “You done yet?” she grumbled. “’Cause there’s a lot going on.”
Sarah loved schedules—thrived on them—and everything about the last month had thrown her life into upheaval. The first issue had been their mother’s fellowship, but Madi’s own drama had done just as much. She’d been slowly pulling away from her sister for the last few weeks, hatching out her own independence. The trip overnight to New York had been a major step, but it had come at the cost of Sarah’s security.
Guilt rising, Madi dropped her eyes from Sarah back to her phone, ignoring Laurent’s text to flick back to the continuing liveblog. Messages popped up one after another. The group of MadLibbers—minus herself and Laurent—were in the middle of an energetic discussion.
@ModernDayWitch: SKOW is an old-time ship, like Leia and Han, Lee and Kara, River and Eleven, Spartan and Tekla. #IllGoDownWithThisShip
@ArtWithAttitude: @ModernDayWitch Sooooooo yummy! I love a girl with drumsticks. #AllTheFeels
@WrittenInChantalics: THIS is how you treat the woman you love! #TakeNotesBoys
@StarveilBrian1981: Just showed up. What did I miss? #MadLibs
@ModernDayWitch: @StarveilBrian1981 Woohoo! Brian’s in the house!!!
Madi’s breath caught. It could be any of them! Every last one of the MadLibbers knew what was going on in her personal life. She’d spammed them with increasingly frenzied messages over the last weeks, giving them a play-by-play of her personal life. Another message from Laurent buzzed her phone—appearing at the top of the screen—and Madi closed the liveblog to answer it.
you still around?
yeah, sorry. just thinking about things
did i say something wrong?
not u-never u, laurent
what then?
i think i have an idea who my troll might be
WHO????????
Madi talked to her fandom friends all the time—some she’d even met—but how well did she really know them? Hands shaking, she wrote another text.
I think the troll is a MadLibber.
* * *
“Hey, Madi?” her father called up the stairs. “Can you come down here for a minute?”
Madi tugged on her jacket and slid her phone into her pocket. The meeting at the school was in half an hour, but her father was determined to be early. She padded down the steps to find him standing in the kitchen, staring at his open laptop.
“Yeah, Dad?”
He looked up. “I need you to be honest with me about something.”
“Okay…?”
“Take a look.”
Madi came around the other side of the table to find her father’s laptop open to the Humans of New York website. A photograph of a young man standing against a graffitied wall graced the top half of the page, followed by the caption “The Art of Anarchy”—definitely not Charles Nakama’s style.
More surprising yet was that Madi recognized the subject of the photo. “Hey, that’s Laurent
!” She laughed. “That’s so awesome!”
Her father frowned. “You knew he was a graffiti artist?”
“Oh, he’s not! I mean he takes pictures of graffiti, but he doesn’t actually paint…” She leaned in as she scrolled down the page, reading: “I’ve always been interested in the art that surrounds us, those perfect moments that photographs capture. Sunsets are fleeting moments of beauty, but no more than graffiti can be. A painting that took the artist hours to create might only last a day before it’s painted out…”
“I’ve seen this place,” Madi said, grinning. “It’s a burned-out building Laurent took me to. All of it covered in pictures. That’s pretty cool.”
“I’m not sure cool is the word I’d use.”
Madi turned back to find him scowling at the screen. “Why not? What’s wrong with it?”
“Besides the fact that graffiti defaces public property?” her father grumbled.
Madi groaned. “The building where that was taken is a burned-out shell, Dad. It’s not like it’s someone’s house. Besides, Laurent’s just documenting it. Capturing the”—she glanced back at the screen—“fleeting moment.”
Her father sighed. “This worries me.”
“Why?”
He cleared his throat. “Laurent seems nice enough, but dating someone who condones graffiti, Madi? I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Dad. That’s really weirdly conservative, even for you.”
“Madi…”
“No, really. Why does it even bother you? Laurent’s not doing the art, he’s taking photos. Nothing wrong with that.”
He reached out and closed the laptop. “I don’t agree.”
She rolled her eyes. “You realize how old-fashioned that sounds, right? Judging Laurent on what he does as a pastime?”
“I’m just a little uncomfortable with it. Graffiti is illegal and—”
“He’s a photographer. All right? It’s what he does.”
Her father scratched his head. “I suppose…”
“Dad. I think you should relax. Laurent’s a good guy.” Madi touched his arm. “Just trust me on this, okay? I know him.”
“Fine.” Her father sighed and put the closed laptop into his bag. “Now, we should get going. The meeting’s going to start in…” He checked his watch. “Twenty minutes.”